Some more than others
by faith5bye5
Summary: Sirius had never realised the true extent of Snape's dedication to the cause. The revelation terrifies him.


SOME MORE THAN OTHERS:

this just rushed out of me. i've not edited it at all yet, although no doubt i will return and improve it

please feel free to point out my mistakes and rip me to shreds - i secretly enjoy that...

once again jk's toys have escaped the box.

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Sirius took another reluctant swig of his muggle beer. He often found that he quite enjoyed such simple beverages. He winced as the sour taste assaulted his throat. - Some more than others. The concoction had a thick, sour taste, unlike the rich, powerful sting of the more familiar Firewhisky.

Sirius' lips curled in disgust. He moved from the bar to a more discreet position in the shadow of a beam.

The seedy muggle bar was crowded to the point of discomfort, with vagabonds and low lives of all levels, shouting and grunting lecherously. Sirius studied the general crowd subtly.

Since the Order had discovered that several Death Eater rendezvous had occurred here, to exchange information and relay messages. Two members of the Order had been strategically placed in the midst of the commotion; the fear being that these Death Eater transactions would provoke muggle beatings or murders.

Sirius had not been informed of his partner for tonight, and he had seen nobody he even _remotely_ recognised as of yet. Of course it was possible that the interloper would be disguised, in which case they would have to come to him.

Sirius took another long swig of his beer and watched a bearded man propositioning an indecently clad young girl, who he registered grimly to be no older than Hermione Granger. It was terrible to consider such a child's prospects with a brute like that, but Sirius could not afford to intervene. Dumbledore had forbidden him to cause the slightest disturbance or to use any form of magic except in cases of 'severe emergency', so as to avoid detection by Death Eater defensive charms.

Sirius growled low in his throat, as he watched the man retreat with the child into a back room, unnoticed by the rowdy mob of individuals pulsating around them. At another dark table a small, spectacled man was being hounded by a bulky man in a dark suit, who had definite eye contact with a couple of thugs leaning stiffly against the back wall. However, the thick bulge in the aggressor's chest pocket hinted strongly at his possession of a _muggle _weapon, Sirius therefore forced himself to dismiss the man's threatening as unrelated and insignificant to his cause.

Passing over the majority of the intoxicated and obviously muggle crowd, Sirius' eye was suddenly caught by a very slight movement in the corner of the bar. He frowned in surprise; he would have sworn that the bar had been empty but a moment ago.

The slender figure wore a long black coat, sharply fastened at the waist by a wide belt, undoubtedly to ward against the icy wind outside, which served only to emphasise its wearer's ridiculously slim body - probably intentionally, Sirius realised - his thoughts returning to the child in the back room, but Sirius found the idea of the emaciated body at the bar more repulsive than attractive, after his own experiences in Azkaban.

Despite the obvious exposure of their figure, the creature at the bar was incredibly discreet, almost unnoticeable in the mob. Long, beautiful, delicate fingers emerged from the black dregs of hair, and Sirius watched them wrap slowly around a small, thin glass of some amber liquid.

Even in his relative proximity, Sirius could not catch any glimpse of the refined being's face, given its position with its back to him, perched precariously on the high bar stool.

Sirius' struggling view was obstructed as four men stumbled gracelessly into his way, laughing rancorously. Sirius ground his teeth in frustration, aching for another view of that enigmatic figure he felt his attention strangely drawn to.

There was a clatter, and Sirius realised that the largest man had staggered backwards and collided with the fragile figure, crushing the object of Sirius' interest roughly against the counter.

Noticing the figure for the first time, the surprised man happily thrust an arm around the narrow shoulders, grinding the body against his own, "Sorry darlin'! Hows about I make it up to y-"

The man broke off with a sudden drunken cry, which was slowly replaced by a lecherous grin that dominated his features as the wiry arms shoved him away, and the figure recoiled sharply.

" 'Ere fellows! Look at this one!" The men swayed dangerously towards the couple, draping themselves over the tense, still figure, then laughing uproariously as they caught sight of her face.

"Alright there, Missy?" One leered at her, whilst another seized the long black skirts of her coat and attire, jerking at them derisively.

Sirius' hand tightened furiously around his glass.

"Lads - that's enough, this bar's open to anyone." The bartender intervened firmly, hesitating pointedly in his vehement polishing of the countertop.

Sirius relaxed slightly against the beam as the men retreated, smirking contentedly, one trailing his fingers through the obsidian hair as he left.

Sirius often felt a responsibility to protect the innocents he saw wronged in his line of duty - his eyes flickered from the unpleasant wastrel being hassled by thugs at the corner table, to the thin, black-clad figure now shivering slightly in relief - _some more than others._

As Sirius watched the bartender bend and murmur, "Listen, if I were you I'd make myself scarce - just friendly advice, mind - you'll get nothing here but trouble now."

The figure froze, the thin shoulder blade tightening in discomfort. Sirius was intrigued as to what he found so enrapturing about the individual; it was as though some sort of powerful energy drew his attention to the character. There was something eerily familiar about her bearing.

Glancing rapidly at the other drinkers out of an unenthusiastic sense of responsibility, Sirius sighed in frustration - There was no _way _any meeting would be taking place tonight; there had been no signs of trouble at all. What an utter waste of time…

Sirius gaze flickered up at the clock in the corner. It was two in the morning. All previous transactions had occurred before twelve.

Smirking at his thoughts of a Death Eater bedtime, Sirius looked back to the figure, to whom the bartender was still whispering in low undertones. Sirius frowned, his jaw falling open as the figure jerked away suddenly and stood up. - It was no _woman_! He could not imagine or remember for the _life_ of him what had ever caused him to think so! As the person rose, it was to a height of over six feet, and as the coat fell into place, Sirius recognised the unmistakeable swirl of _robes _underneath. As Sirius caught the flash of a pale, pointed cheekbone, he knew immediately the identity of the mysterious figure sweeping silently through the back exit of the pub.

Snape! That had been _Snape_? When had the man become so hideously thin? Had he been here for the Order? Sirius cursed himself, he should been more vigilant. Or… had Snape been posing as a Death Eater? No, he wouldn't have been, not undisguised like that. Why had the stupid bastard worn his _robes_ instead of the muggle attire Sirius himself had adorned? _Surely _Snape hadn't believed that ridiculous coat would be cover enough!

Sirius' exasperated thoughts were interrupted as he noticed the familiar, rowdy man nudge his friends and notion after Snape's retreating back. He found himself staring in concern as the men downed their drinks and followed Snape from the pub through the backdoor. Sirius swore under his breath, running a hand through his hair.

Those men were going to do one over on Snape. There was no doubt about it - they must have thought the man was a very serious weirdo. Harry had explained to Sirius many times what a mistake it was for male wizards to wear robes, or indeed anything _skirt-like _in the muggle world.

Muggles weren't nearly so tolerant of deviants in their midst as wizards were. Ironically enough. Abandoning his drink, Sirius made his decision quickly. He knew Snape was well capable of defending himself, but Sirius owed it to Dumbledore to be sure of the man's safety. Besides, Sirius wanted a few explanations of his own.

With a final glare at its inhabitants, Sirius barged his way across the pub to the door. Exiting into a dark back alley, he caught sight of Snape's silhouette in the moonlight at its very end. He was being restrained by three of the men. Sirius shuddered to see their huge bulks pitted against Severus' skeletal figure. The men's thick, sordid voices slurred on the air as they spoke into Snape's face.

"What did you mean by all that, then? Carryin' on with us like that!"

"Wanna be a gi-rly do you? You want to bleed?"

"So what are you sellin' this rank _carcass_ for? Do we get a discount for the four of us at once?"

"Nah, can't charge for a hide like this! - He's goin' free…"

Sirius stood frozen on the spot, unable to move. Snape was thrown viciously backwards against the alley wall as all four men descended upon him. His wiry arms flailed desperately at his attackers, but so many fists at once, a brutal uppercut in particular destroyed his balance, and a slug to the back of his head buckled his knees as he grasped at the wall to remain half upright.

The blows continued incessantly, punctuated by Snape's gasps and hisses, until a savage kick to his stomach brought him retching to his knees as he vomited blood into the gutter. As Snape collapsed against the ground, a man seized his wrists, pinning them cruelly to the paving stones by the sole of his boot. Snape writhed and twisted as sharp kicks pummelled vulnerable areas of his chest and sides.

The men jeered, screaming abuse as they tormented him and the forth man dropped to his knees, snatching the back of Snape's robes and ripping them violently as he worked frantically at the clasp on his own belt.

Sirius suddenly sparked into action so fast that he stumbled into a stack of dustbins erupting a resounding crash in the alleyway as he lurched onward, whipping his wand from his inner jacket - "**_PUNEO_**!" Sirius bellowed, bounding down the back street as his magic engulfed the four attackers, who fled screaming, boils seeping from their flesh.

"Snape! SNAPE! _Severus_.." Sirius fell to his knees beside Snape, who still lay motionless upon the ground. "God… Are you are right?" He placed his hand gently on the man's shoulder all enmity forgotten. "For pity's sake, man…"

Snape suddenly scrambled unsteadily to his feet, staggering slightly and clutching frantically to gather his robes about him. Catching sight of Sirius, he snarled angrily, "What the hell did you think you were doing?"

A distant streetlamp illuminated his blood encrusted teeth and the seriously broken blood vessels in his left eye. Sirius flooded immediately with anger and indignation. "What the hell do you mean! - You _wanted_ that to happen?… You sick _fuck_, do you have any idea what they were going to-"

"Dumbledore said we were **not** to use magic unless it was a true emergency…"

"You mean you _chose_ not to defend yourself? -That was the bloody **_definition_ **of an emergency!"

"On the contrary, Black, I made every effort to defend myself; I simply failed."

"And you never even… _tried_ to use magic?"

Snape sneered at Sirius, but his eyes remained hollow and he seemed almost sad as he wrapped his arms around his damaged mid-section and shook his head slowly.

"You've been out of the game for a while, Black. All those years in Azkaban. You've no ideas the horrors that constitute an 'emergency' now. Next time, do not _disregard_ Dumbledore's orders unless the situation is worth it. Live a little longer in the real world; you'll come to realise some things are more important…more damaging than others."

Sirius' blood grew cold as he watched Snape hobble silently away into the night - his stance telling of fractures and broken bones deep beneath the surface bruises.

Sirius felt like nothing more than the child of his school days in view of the man that Severus had become.

Every one of Dumbledore's soldiers was prepared to make sacrifices for the cause.

Some more than others.

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End.

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